


Desserts

by Missy



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Cunnilingus, First Orgasm, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Multi, Post-Canon, Sexual Frustration, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Shirley responds to Walter's cheating by fleeing Germany with their son.  She stumbles right into Laverne and Lenny's semi-open relationship, and a drunken conversation expands her horizons - but leaves Laverne and Lenny wondering if they should close their open circle.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Laverne DeFazio/Shirley Feeney/Lenny Kosnowski, Shirley Feeney/Walter Meeney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

When Shirley caught Walter cheating on her, the first thing she did was grab her son and run to the nearest phone booth.

It was freezing cold in Germany that winter, and she immediately regretted hiking to the booth in her housecoat and her shoes. Little Jack was a happy, content baby, cooing and patting Shirley’s face even as she sobbed into the receiver of a pay phone.

“Waddya mean, Walter’s cheating on you?” Laverne’s voice was piercing in the German night. 

“His nurses,” Shirley gasped out. “I’ve got to go home,” she said. “Can you get me home?”

“Wait, don’t you wanna try to work things out?” 

“Some things cannot be worked out Laverne. One of those things is the sight of your husband being…simultaneously seduced by his two nurses on his desk.” 

“Oh my God,” Laverne groaned.

“If you wire me the money, I’ll pay you right back. Please, Vernie. His name’s on all the checks...”

“Gotcha, Shirl. Gimmie the address of the nearest supermarket and I’ll Western Union it over. Uh, if you stay here you’re gonna have to be on the couch, you remember, right?”

“Yes, Laverne, I remember you telling me about the mysterious gentleman for whom you are an ‘old lady’,” Shirley said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t believe you’re living with a man!”

“I told you, Shirl – he’s a great guy. You even know him! And you like him,” Laverne explained patiently. “It’s serious.”

“Right,” Shirley said. “Then why don’t you tell me who he is?”

She could feel Laverne squirm over the wire. “Never mind, Shirl,” she said. “I’ll tell you when you fly in.”

“Yes, well, this mysterious gentleman had best be prepared for me.”

“Trust me, he’s prepared.”

Shirley found herself waiting there for an hour before it processed out. The rest of the day passed in a blur of running back home, dodging Walter’s pleas as she packed and clothed Jack properly for the trip. She took what was important – Boo Boo Kitty, her album, her passport and birth certificate. She felt nothing, thought of nothing, while the cab took her to the airport, she waited for the plane to taxi toward the arrival gate, and she took her incredibly long flight. She woke up when her flight taxied into LAX.

The call she made to Laurel Vista rang off the hook.

With a sleepy baby in her arms, Shirley was fit to be tied. She loved Laverne, but honestly, ever since she’d become so deeply involved with this hippie nonsense she’d become even less reliable than normal. So, after a brief cab ride, she found herself standing before her old address at Laurel Vista, pounding her fist into the big, semicircle of the door. When it flew open, she gasped.

For the man at the door happened to be Lenny Kosnowski.

When he pointed a finger at her – his newly long, red-blond hair brushing against his collarbone – and said, “hey, didn’t you used to be Shirley Feeney?” – she managed not to scream.

At least not too loudly.

Lenny frowned and tilted his head at her. “I was just kidding, Shirl. I ain’t that far gone. Yet.” He tilted his head and smiled. “That Jack? Aww, he’s getting so big.” Lenny waved his finger at the kid. 

“Yes,” she said, and automatically tried to shield her son from Lenny’s gaze. He frowned at her gesture. As always, her son took no heed and smiled, waving right back at Lenny.

“Hey, little guy,” then Lenny straightened up. “Laverne got out his old playpen out. It’s over by the stairs.”

“Thank you, Leonard.” She stood stiffly in what had been her home once upon a time, noticing that Laverne’s own…well, lack of taste…had been mitigated by Lenny’s own. She didn’t mind the tie-dyed curtains, but those green dice looked appalling next to that multicolored piñata.

“So…welcome to our humble adieu,” he said, raising an eyebrow and spreading his arms. “That’s the couch…over there’s the kitchen…”

“Lenny, I lived in this apartment for two years,” Shirley sighed. 

“Oh good. Then I don’t have to show you where the balcony is. I keep getting confused and going right and falling off of it,” he said.

She placed Jack in the playpen and sunk onto the couch. “Where’s Laverne?”

“She had to work late!” he said. “She told me to feed you ‘til she gets here! You hungry?” Lenny asked. 

“Why, what did you make? Hog snouts and Twinkies?”

“Nah, just meatloaf, mashed potatoes, rolls and green beans.” Shirley turned her head to stare at him. “I know! Kinda a weird spread, but Laverne said that’s what we should do. Want a plate?”

She nodded heavily, and Lenny started banging around in the fridge, pulling out dishes. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” she asked. “You and Laverne?”

He nodded. “She told me to let her explain.”

This was unhelpful. It gave Laverne space to lie. At least Lenny would never attempt to lie to her. As she sat and wondered about what had really occurred while she was out of town, the front door opened, and Laverne entered in her Ajax coat.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m late, they wanted to keep me to go over some stuff and…”

Shirley took one look at her best friend and burst into tears. She held her arms out for Laverne like a toddler and Laverne rushed over and got both of her arms around her best friend. “Oh boy,” she muttered, as Shirley wailed. “Len, can you go outside?”

“Sure,” he said. He headed over to the crib and gently lifted out Jack. “Me and the little guy’re gonna have a man-to-man talk on the balcony,” he said.

“Don’t walk off of the – “ Both women began.

“Relax! I know where I’m going,” Lenny said. He pulled open the door and walked outside, and there was, miraculously, no shout of panic, no sound of bodies hitting the ground.

The only casualty was Shirley’s marriage to Walter. She sobbed harder upon realizing that.

“You gotta tell me what happened, besides him being a cheating creep,” Laverne said.

Shirley promised herself she would, later on. But right now she just wanted to be held by her best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

The story came out of Shirley between sobs, and Laverne kept rubbing her shoulder, trying to keep her from choking. 

“Well, Walter's a jerk,” Laverne said, when Shirley finally finished. “I guesss. I dunno Walter that well.”

Shirley blushed. “Consider yourself lucky,” she mumbled. Laverne squeezed Shirley about the middle in response. 

“It’s gonna be okay. We’ll ask some of Pop’s friends on the city council to find us a lawyer and get you out of this,” she said.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course!”

“Gee, thanks Vernie,” Shirley said. She huddled deeper into Laverne’s embrace for a minute. Gaining comfort from her had always been second-nature; clinging to her had always been the easiest thing in the world. When they separated, Shirley sat back and pushed back Laverne’s growing hair. “Now explain Lenny to me.”

Laverne’s lip turned up. “Can anyone ever explain Lenny?” she joked.

“Laverne,” Shirley said, and her sternest, most schoolmarmish tone.

She took a deep breath. “We went to a protest at Columbia together a couple of months ago and one thing led to another.” Laverne shrugged. “I dunno, Shirl. Lately he’s him, but not him.”

“…You’ve just made that man sound even more incomprehensible than he was back in Milwaukee.” 

Laverne snorted. “Y’know, more grown-up. A little different than he is when he hangs out with Squig.”

“Mature?”

Laverne laughed. “Nah! Mature’s overrated anyway,” she said impishly. 

“Yes, we both know you think so.” 

“Shirl!” Laverne whined.

“Oh, never mind,” said Shirley. She blotted her tears and snot away with some Kleenex. “You can invite him back in again. I’m all right.”

“Okay,” Laverne said. “Hey, Len…” She yelled over her shoulder. 

Lenny had – being able, unlike his best friend, to listen and talk at the same time – apparently been waiting for Laverne’s voice. “Y’OK, Shirley?” he asked, carrying Jack back inside and closing the patio door with his free hand.

“Fine now,” she said. She reached for her son and Lenny ceded control of him. For a second she was surprised by his ease with Jack.

“That’s good. You girls want dinner? I heated it up myself.”

“Sure, I’m starving,” Laverne said. “We got Jacks’ high chair in the storage closet, if you want it.”

“Oh, thank you.” Shirley felt something odd move through her being as she headed into the kitchenette to eat. 

Like she were part of a family again. Cherished. Something she’d definitely never felt with Walter.

*** 

Dinner was a surprisingly convivial one, and once Jack ate his share of mashed potatoes and milk he went out like a light. Shirley felt guilt and vowed she’d get baby food first thing in the morning, grateful he was on solids and at least able to digest this much for the night. 

But the rest of the evening was made for old stories and laughter, and the bottle of wine that Laverne had apparently unliberated from her father’s restaurant. 

They were only slightly tipsy when Laverne brought up the fact that she’d seen a couple of hippies making it in the park during the last march they were at.

“And you didn’t show me!” Lenny said. “Almost dumped her, right on the spot,” he declared.

“Shut up,” she said, play-punching his shoulder. 

“Laverne, why would you do such a thing?” Shirley asked.

“Because I was too stoned to move, thank you,” Laverne said.

Lenny gave her a lovesick look. “My girl’s got a hollow leg for booze but you get a little weed in her and she’s a giggly mess.”

“Takes one to know one,” Laverne said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“They were having a good time!” Laverne said, “Didn’t wanna interrupt them.”

“Good,” Lenny said. “As long as everyone was having a good time.” He shifted in his chair, almost fidgeting as he had when he was a teenager back in their shared biology class. Laverne was right; Lenny was somehow the same boy who had thrown a frog’s lung down the collar of her blouse and yet another kind of creature entirely.

“Well. That doesn’t happen to every woman when she…agrees to be with a man,” Shirley said, immediately regretting revealing as much about her history to these two.

“What? You mean…?” Lenny asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Aww geeze, I don’t want to talk about this,” Laverne groaned, and stuffed a Town House cracker into her mouth, the last of the amateurish hors de ouvres Lenny had made with luncheon meat and cheese atop them.

But her boyfriend had much more to say. “Walter never made you come?” Lenny’s jaw dropped as Shirley nodded. “Shirl, any guy who don’t make sure his girl comes ought to be strung up by his pinkies.”

She raised an eyebrow at the extremity of Lenny’s statement, sweeping her celery through the onion dip. “Yes, well, Walter may fear his mother and condom usage, but giving me an orgasm was not one of his priorities. Are you happy now?”

“No! You deserve to come!” Lenny said.

Laverne cringed and rubbed her forehead. “Len. You ain’t helping, here.”

“I am too!” he whined. “Shirl, it’s your unaimaible right to have your eyes roll all the way back in your head when you bed down with a fella. Right, Laverne?”  


She let out a sigh. “Okay, we’re going to bed.” She grabbed the last of the plates and put them into the sink.

“Right, Shirl?” Lenny’s voice somehow became even shriller as he tried to prove his point. Laverne grabbed him up out of his seat by his hand. 

“We need to go to sleep, Len,” she said. “And Shirl needs her rest, too.”

She supposed she did. When she checked the clock it was past midnight, far, far afield from her usual, prim 10 PM bed. “Well, all right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” Laverne said with some sense of authority. 

Shirley took this proclamation with equanimity. She even washed the dishes, before checking on Jack’s diaper and cleaning the table. She cleaned up and redressed in her nightgown away from the balcony, in the kitchenette, and realized eventually she’d need to go right through Laverne and Lenny’s bedroom to brush her teeth in the morning. 

But her perfect grooming could wait. She flopped onto the blue couch and closed her eyes. 

In minutes she was asleep – in spite of the frantically muffled sound of two people making love upstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Shirley rolled out of quasi-bed with a groan. She’d slept surprisingly well, surprisingly deeply, but Jack was making fussy noises in his bassinette and her logy bones needed a quick jog. 

There wasn’t anything to be done downstairs, with Laverne having promised her breakfast. So Shirley pulled together her son and changed him into his last clean diaper, putting him in a fresh outfit and then making plans for her shopping trip. Shirley needed a shower – desperately – and at the moment all she wanted to do was secure it, even if Laverne and Lenny were asleep after their smutty frolicking the day before.

A muffled moan sounded seconds after Shirley reached the doorway, and it drew her to Laverne’s bedroom door. Shirley’s sane, moral center – the part of her that kept screaming this was an awful idea – fell mute as she peeked around the crack of Laverne’s bedroom door.

Laverne had bought a California king bed since she had moved out, Shirley realized dazedly. It was large enough for her to sprawl out her long, strong, tanned legs and plant her feet flat on the mattress. Between those legs lay Lenny, who was face-down against Laverne’s sex. She clutched the back of his blond head as it eagerly waggled and he apparently ate her pussy out like a particularly delicious ice cream cone.

Shirley muffled a shriek behind her palm. She spun away from the door and tried to convince herself that she hadn’t seen what she knew she’d seen. But the sounds, the picture, the memory made her take another peep at the two lovers lying together in their bed. 

When Shirley took another look, Laverne had two handfuls of Lenny’s hair, her hips grinding up and down to their own rhythm. Her lips were parted, and she panted shallowly. Shirley recalled that she’d seen Laverne look this way before – when she was having a rather explicit dream about Moose Crenshaw back in Milwaukee, a dream Shirley hadn’t understood standing outside of the best friend’s personal fire but one she wanted to know, if only to be able to tease Laverne with the memory. When one of Lenny’s big, white hands slid up the mattress and found Laverne’s right breast, she groaned and humped into his mouth in earnest. Lenny chuckled through his nose, and the speed of his tongue seemed to increase, until Laverne started groaning in a regular pattern, short, staccato bursts of sound. Her right hand clutched her left breast. Shirley flushed, remembering the Laverne she’d lived with for years, the breasts she’d seen so many times when they were stuck sharing a bathroom or getting ready for a night out. Laverne’s nipples were still thick and the same velvety shade of brown which made Shirley’s mouth water.

Good god, what was she _doing?_ This was wrong; it was filthy! And it was a total violation of Laverne and Lenny’s privacy. Shirley tried to make herself move away, to attend to her son, but she couldn’t do it, her shoes cakes of cement anchoring her to the floor.

“Yeah,” Laverne whispered. “Don’t stop!” 

Shirley saw Lenny shift off of his elbow, his left hand coming forward. The tip of his index finger, then his middle one, entered Laverne with steady, gentle pressure. Laverne cried out and bit her bottom lip to muffle the noise. Lenny waggled his head, and then pressed his fingers forward. Shirley heard him hum and Laverne’s fingertips turned white against the back of his skull. Her legs went stiff and she hunched forward, moaning and shaking against Lenny’s touch. Seconds later she collapsed onto her back, panting.

Lenny took that as a sign to stop touching her, and surfaced on his knees. He didn’t wipe his mouth, the way Walter had in disgust the one time he’d tried to pleasure Shirley this way. His approach was more like she’d fantasized Carmine’s might be; adoring looks and gentle touches until Laverne came around.

Laverne recovered quickly from her orgasm, natural athlete that she was. She lifted her lips toward Lenny’s mouth, and they kissed as Laverne’s fingertips brushed down Lenny’s chest, his belly, and took his cock firmly in her grip. His mouth dropped open, his head fell back, three strokes later. Leaning close to Laverne, he whispered something that made her snort and give him a slap to the shoulder. Then she guided him down and up between her legs, making Laverne suck her belly in and Lenny whine.

Lenny took over from there. Shirley had expected him to pound away at Laverne, to be reckless, even to hurt her, but instead his movements were slower, more measured, his eyes never leaving her face, dotting her all over with kisses, his hands stroking her breasts, tweaking her nipples, sliding between her legs to play with her clitoris as he moved. 

In time, they increased the intensity of their movements, his hand cupping her cheek. They kissed and rocked until Lenny pushed himself up on an elbow, his thrusting becoming measurably more serious, desire shape-shifting his face.

Shirley wanted, to her shame, to touch herself, to stroke her clit, to do what she’d resisted doing for years out of fear of damaging her hymen and making herself ‘used goods’, unmarriageable to the white collar world she’d aspired to, and worse, unlovable. A bridge she’d almost leapt over with Carmine, only to have been prevented by Laverne. Well, she’d gone to her marriage bed intact, and come away with nothing but disappointment. Laverne – who had given herself away to Moose Crenshaw and then to Randy Carpenter and Sonny Saint Jacques and probably any number of other men before Lenny with no shame at all – had experienced ecstasy in the arms of a man Shirley didn’t approve of, but a man who didn’t care that she’d been with other guys any more than she cared that he’d been with other girls. Moreover, Lenny had long worshipped the ground Laverne walked on, and at heart Shirley knew Laverne would never be unhappy to be with him. She felt bitterly disappointed by her own hubris, but no – her son wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t been with Walter. In the end, it had been worthwhile.

Shirley was startled back to the reality of the moment when Lenny let out a muffled cry, the sort of sound she’d made when she’d washed his foot after Squiggy shoved him out the window of their apartment and broke Lenny's left leg. Laverne’s own legs were high over a pair of surprisingly strong-looking, muscular white buttocks, her hand tangled up in the hair she’d always complained was too greasy. Her mouth was wide open, her head falling back, and Lenny had froze, crying out softly, those buttocks tensing, those hips rocking instead of thrusting, trying to get somehow deeper into Laverne. 

It was over. 

Shirley hid, then waited a good ten minutes after they were finished to knock on the doorframe. Alarmed noises, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor greeted her. Shirley grinned, but hid her amusement when Laverne peeked around the corner.

“Hey Shirl,” she said, yawning. “Sorry about that. Me and Len were bushed after last night, we must’ve slept in.” Shirley heard Lenny’s high-pitched giggle, which earned him a slap of some sort. 

“It’s all right. I hope you don’t mind if I use the faculties….” 

“Sure, be our guest,” Laverne said. Shirley entered the room, waved at Lenny, who sat there in his jeans, his long, dark blond hair trailing past his pale shoulders. Lenny gave Shirley a wave, and she waved back.

“Can you guys keep an eye on Jack while I bathe?”

“Sure,” Laverne said. 

“Good, I’ve fed him. I really do need to head to the market after…”

“I’ll take you, Shirl,” Lenny offered. 

“Oh, thank you, Leonard.” She let out a sigh as she stepped over the threshold and turned the bathroom light on. Those faculties were quickly used, and she borrowed Laverne’s toothbrush before sliding into the shower. A few minutes later, the spray pelted her skin, cleaning her short, dark hair and washing away the sins of her voyeurism. When she held the showerhead between her legs, Shirley let out a sigh. Letting her mind drift, she tried mightily to reach the heights she’d tasted earlier – only to fall tragically short of the goal line.

Damn it. She finished washing and cursed her luck. Of course Laverne could come like a house afire with no issues at all. Then again, she was crazy wild in love with Lenny Kosnowski, who used to lick flagpoles in the dead of a Milwaukee winter. Maybe that meant he was braver than the average man with his oral skills. 

Shirley didn’t know. But part of her wished she could find a guy who was like Lenny, even if that meant hooking up with the weirdest man in the world.

*** 

By the time she’d dressed and dried off, Lenny was ready to take her to the market. Laverne had to get to work, but Rhonda was free enough to sit during the day. As always, Shirley and Lenny existed in a bubble of politeness that was social and cordial but not filled with easy camaraderie, like it was with Lenny and Laverne. They got to the market, shopped for diapers and baby food and toiletries for Shirley, then went home on the bus. 

Her son was happy to see her, and Shirley was relieved to see him. “An angry sounding man left you some messages,” Rhonda informed Shirley.

They were all from Walter, naturally. “Thank you,” she said, then organized them with a sigh. She would have to call him eventually, but not now.

Only when Lenny went to go take Jack on a walk did Shirley read those increasingly angry and abusive messages from the man who’d vowed to love her always. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she absorbed the letters, letting them wash away the ink of Rhonda's florid handwriting.

“Shirl? Are you okay?” 

Laverne was there immediately, and Shirley threw her arms around Laverne’s neck. “He’s being terrible! It’s like I’m the one who’s cheating!”

“That crumb! I’ll get Pop’s attorney friends on his case for you, Shirl.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Shirley sniffled. “It’s my fault. If I’d been a better wife…”

“Are you kidding me? You told me you ironed his ties! No woman would do that for a guy, Shirl.”

“True. But I don’t know what I’m going to do, Laverne!” She shook her head, blotting away her tears. “And I’m sorry, this is the third time I’ve broken down on you this trip!”

“It’s all right,” Laverne soothed her quietly. “Believe me, it’s okay.”

Shirley didn’t intend to lean deeper into the woman’s embrace. She didn’t intend to kiss Laverne’s neck and inhale the spicy scent of her perfume. And she definitely hadn’t intended to brush her lips against Laverne’s. 

But the kiss that followed had more emotion – more purpose – than any embrace she’d ever shared with Doctor Walter Meaney in a whole year of marriage.


	4. Chapter 4

Shirley sat back and wiped her eyes, tilting her head in surprise. She touched her lips for a moment, and then smiled. “Laverne?”

Laverne shrugged and smiled. “What, Shirl?” 

Shirley sat back and fanned her cheeks. “Good gravy, I haven’t been kissed like that in years.”

Laverne preened a little, sitting back and crossing her legs. “You ain’t so bad yourself?”

“Really?” Shirley squeaked out. “Well, Walter always said…”

“Walter’s the sort of guy who doesn’t know how to find a girl’s clit.” Shirley winced at Laverne’s frankness, but she had

The kisses turned to gentle stroking – of hair and of shoulders - before Laverne’s hand began to snake down the side of Shirley’s body and stroke its way up under the hem of her blouse. Shirley shivered at the contact but allowed Laverne to finger her way over the cup of her bra and brush against her nipples.

“Nice,” Laverne mumbled. “I always wondered what guys used to get so excited about.” She tweaked one of Shirley’s pink, hardening nipples and Shirley made a whimpering sound, something just to the left of surrender and just to the right of a request. 

They French kissed again, tongues tagging back and forth, while Laverne squeezed and teased Shirley’s smaller breasts. Part of Shirley wondered if Laverne had dreamed of this – she was fairly certain she hasn’t flat out done it before with someone else, which quells her childish jealous. Damn it, she wants to be the only woman Laverne’s ever been attracted to, but she knows that hope’s an impossibility. After all, Rhonda lives next door.

All of her doubts dissolved away as Laverne started sliding open the buttons on her blouse. She was slower, gentler with Shirley than Shirley would have been with herself – a different woman in bed than Shirley had thought Laverne would be. Maybe she was overanalyzing everything, but she didn’t want to make presumptions about how Laverne felt when Shirley had no idea how she felt about the situation.

Laverne Pulled the tails of Shirley’s blouse free of her skirt and skimmed it down Shirley’s arms. Shirley sprouted goosebumps, shivered, and felt Laverne’s lips caress her throat. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive,” Laverne said in her Bronx whine, which made Shirley laugh breathlessly. 

“I didn’t know I was that sensitive either,” Shirley admitted. She hadn’t been, with Walter – Carmine had never really gotten the chance before she’d sloughed him off for another “You just seem to have an effect on me.”

“Good,” Laverne said. “Turn around.” With some effort, Shirley did so, discarding the blouse on the floor and allowing Laverne to kiss the back of her neck and then knead at her sore muscles. Shirley melted, purred. Laverne started kissing her way up and down Shirley’s neck until her eyes fluttered closed and she let out a quiet sigh. Her hand found Shirley’s breasts again and pawed at them awkwardly, as if she were Lenny, her sophistication gone. Shirley leaned backwards into Laverne, allowed herself to be touched, allowed her neck to be tasted. She felt like a vampire’s thrall, lost in passion, with Laverne’s deftness returning, her fingertips unclasping the bra strap and freeing Shirley’s bigger-than-before-thanks-to-her-nursing but still small and pert tits.

Laverne muttered something against Shirley’s neck about her little pink nipples and Shirley flushed, squirming. She felt exposed and safe at the same time. Laverne played with Shirley’s tits as if they were her own, familiar to the ground but trying to figure out what Shirley liked. What she liked at the moment – after having to express milk from her chest, was to have them touched very gently. Laverne caught on, the mauling stopped, and Shirley allowed herself to be gently squeezed. Her hips moved restlessly against Laverne’s own, and her best friend reached down and separated Shirley’s thighs. Laverne’s fingertips skirted the edge of Shirley’s wet panties, then stroked her through the material. Shirley felt as if she’d been shot up with adrenalin – her whole body started and quaked.

“Shh,” Laverne said. Then her fingers dipped beyond the elastic legband of Shirley’s panties and touched her pussy.

Shirley had never been this wet when Walter had touched her. Only Carmine had affected her this way before, but with Laverne it was easier, safer, even than with him. Laverne would never hurt her, would never do anything terrible to her, would never embarrass her, cheat on her, or gossip about her. That gave her space to fly, to enjoy, to adore every single second of what Laverne was doing for her. She gasped and writhed and moaned under her best friend’s touch, as Laverne’s fingertips teased up through wetness to gently stroke her clit.

Shirley began to pant – that thrilling, torturous mountain she’d tried to climb in the shower by herself suddenly seemed achievable. She surrendered to Laverne but couldn’t seem to sit still, writhing bucking as Laverne slid two fingers into her, worked them with careful slowness into and out of Shirley, not the mean, crude jabbing motions that Walter had made before. Laverne circled Shirley’s clit with her fingertips and carefully teased her nipples with the other, and it was so different even from her own frustrating touch.

“Laverne,” she panted.

“Go ahead, Shirl. Come,” Laverne urged, and her fingers quickened their tempo but did not hurt, her other hand abandoning Shirley’s breast to play with her clit. When she began to gently stroke it Shirley fell apart, crying out, shaking in Laverne’s grip as a tidal wave of pleasure flooded her senses and washed her out to safe, sleepy security.

When she woke from her sensual trance, Laverne was waiting for her, looking a little skittish – perhaps aware that they’d gone much farther than either of them meant to. But Shirley grinned, and reached for her best friend, pulling her as close as humanly possible, sharing a long, sweet, deep kiss.

Shirley didn’t have the chance to plan a response to Laverne’s sexual devotation, for two seconds later the door flew open and Lenny stood there, his jaw dropping wide open at the sight before him.


End file.
